


The price we pay (the promise we made)

by socknonny



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: There is a storm building outside, just like there was the night Billy left Hawkins for good. The wind has picked up even in the short time since he arrived, rattling the windows while the rain lashes in long streaks across the glass. Across the hall, Steve glances at the windows, eyes narrowed in thought. Billy wonders if he’s remembering that night too, remembering how Billy stormed off on him. How Billy left and never come back.Alternatively: It's been ten years since Billy saw Steve Harrington, but Billy has finally returned for their high school reunion.





	The price we pay (the promise we made)

**Author's Note:**

> Ao3 goes down in 45 minutes... which means my comments will take a hit but I honestly am a gremlin that can't wait even two hours to post things, even to beta, so enjoy! This fic is shamelessly inspired by "I Remember You" by Skid Row. I'm not sure if they're the class of '85 or not? But they are now.

No one thought he’d show. 

It’s clear enough from the expressions on their faces as they back away from him. The hall that Hawkins High is using for their ‘class of ‘85’ reunion is crowded and full of noise, but it’s not enough to mask their reactions to him—the initial shock followed by the curiosity, the whispers they don’t bother to hide. Billy Hargrove, back from the dead. Back from prison. Back from whatever other bullshit rumors they made up and spread about him when he hightailed it out of here ten years ago, Camaro wheels screeching in the dust.

That had been a good day. A storm was brewing on the horizon, but it hadn’t hit the town yet. Billy could feel it thrumming beneath his skin, that kind of electricity that only rises when something is about to explode. He stood in front of Neil, bag thrown over his shoulder, and thought about knocking him out. The buzzing beneath his skin grew louder as Neil yelled at him, threatened him, tried to squash him into the dirt so that he stayed and became the man Neil wanted him to be. 

But Billy wasn’t the boy Neil raised anymore. He wasn’t afraid of his father, and as the setting sun had cast its last rays through the kitchen window, covering Neil’s face in shadow, all Billy could think was how fucking old his dad looked. How easy it would be to knock him onto the ground.

He thought about it, and then he turned around and walked away, drove his Camaro straight into the oncoming storm.

He sticks his keys into his pocket and draws out a cigarette. He doesn’t smoke much anymore, only when he’s feeling out of place. Perhaps the occasional cigar with a glass of whiskey, poured neat. Smoking reminds him too much of being a teenager, of feeling so restless beneath his skin that he didn’t know how to be still. He puts the cigarette back.

Billy has learned how to be still. He’s learned that the rising tide of anger in him doesn’t always need a release, can be felt and held and heard without destroying anything in the process. Without destroying  _ him.  _

Steve taught him that, and even though it’s been ten years since Billy saw him, since that last fight that had Billy running as far as he could lest the tears give his true self away, Billy can still remember how it felt to lie in his arms and feel nothing but peace. 

*

“Get the fuck away from me,” Billy snarls, shoving his way through the crowded locker room in search of the exit. 

Fucking ‘away’ games. He hates not knowing where the doors are, and their bus had been so late there was no time to orient himself when they threw their stuff in the lockers and ran out onto the court.

“I can’t. You’ve got my keys, dipshit.”

Billy frowns and stares down at the bag in his hands. It’s the same color as his, but the strap isn’t worn and the pockets don’t flap permanently open. And now that he looks closer, it’s a brand he could never afford. 

He grunts and shoves the bag into Steve, where he’s standing with his arms crossed and a frown on his forehead. Steve curses and fumbles to catch it. 

“You’re such a dick,” he mutters under his breath, probably not expecting Billy to hear. 

Billy leers at him and leans in close, whispers in his ear because he’s an asshole like that. “What’s that, Harrington? You want my dick?” He steps away and runs his tongue along his teeth. 

He expects Harington to recoil, to flinch and back away. And he does. Except… he also blushes, his eyes dropping to Billy’s shorts for a brief but undeniable second. Billy stares at him, feels the shiteating grin drop away from his face as he comprehends what he just saw. 

Harrington turns away before Billy can say anything.

*

Steve sees him first. Billy knows this, because when he finally spots him standing in the corner, flanked by the princess and the freak, Steve is already watching him. Their eyes meet, and for all the intensity Billy sees there, he has no idea what the look on Steve’s face means. He tries to smile, but his mouth won’t move. 

He wonders if Steve expected to see him tonight, or if he was just like all the others and had written him off as a loss—the kind of kid who disappears into the night and self-destructs somewhere far away. The kind of kid who people gossip about at reunions like this, about what he’s doing now and how they all knew he’d never amount to anything.

Billy doesn’t deny he was that kind of kid, but he thought Steve saw through it. Even at the end, he thought Steve knew why he left. Maybe he was wrong.

He tries to figure out if Steve wants to talk to him, or if he’s begging Billy to leave him alone, but Steve’s face is too closed off. All of a sudden, Billy regrets coming. He isn’t even sure why he did, except that he knew no one would expect him. He knew no one would want him here. 

He no longer knows if turning up because of that was meant to hurt them or himself.

Seeing Steve again, after all this time, does funny things to Billy’s heart. It’s a familiar feeling, and he realizes for the first time that he hasn’t felt it in ten years. Hasn’t felt anything even close.   

There is a storm building outside, just like there was the night Billy left Hawkins for good. The wind has picked up even in the short time since he arrived, rattling the windows while the rain lashes in long streaks across the glass. Across the hall, Steve glances at the windows, eyes narrowed in thought. Billy wonders if he’s remembering that night too, remembering how Billy stormed off on him. How Billy left and never come back.

Coming here was a mistake. But before Billy can decide to leave again, right now, Steve turns to him and tilts his chin up, the barest of movements. 

Relief courses through him, and he changes direction, accepting the invitation and walking forward to meet it. 

*

Like most of Billy’s hookups—the real ones; the ones with  _ boys _ —it starts with handjobs behind the gym. Things between him and Steve are stilted at first, their interactions so charged with mutual aggression and anger that when they finally do realize they want the same thing, it comes together with an energy that is only just short of violent. Billy thinks it’s something of a miracle that they even manage to get anywhere at all. He’s used to being discreet, used to the wordless invitations that remain imperceptible to straight people, but it’s different with Steve. There’s way too much in between them, and yet they manage to overcome it anyway. 

It still takes them a few seconds to let down their guards. It never gets any easier, each time the same as the one before as they circle each other warily before finally crashing together when they can no longer hold back. Steve tastes like cinammon and coffee, and sometimes Billy wishes he had something more to offer then cigarettes and rage. They don’t waste much time kissing, but Billy secretly admits that it’s his favorite part of the whole thing. He’s never kissed anyone like Steve before. Never kissed anyone who acts like they’re in charge. Never kissed anyone to whom Billy thinks, if circumstances were different, he might gladly relinquish control. 

He expects it to dissolve after the two of them come to their senses, but it doesn’t. Graduation comes and goes, the two of them get jobs down at the local mall, and somehow they’re still meeting up at night. They jump in the back of Billy’s car, or slip down the alley behind Scoops Ahoy where the dumpsters are caked in ice cream and stink of mold and sugar. 

It’s there that everything changes. Billy has always known that Steve’s scared of something in the same way that Billy is. He’s never asked; he doesn’t care. But something moves in the shadows that night while they’re still verbally circling each other, still trying not to be the one who makes the first move. Steve twitches and spins in a half circle, eyes wide with adrenaline. As he does so, he stumbles and his hand flings out to smack Billy in the chest. 

It’s only for a second, but Billy flinches. He flinches far more than can ever be justified by the hit, and Steve is so keyed up, so focused on every movement in the area, he notices. 

The noise in the darkened corner of the alley is just a raccoon. It comes scurrying out and flees the scene, but Steve isn’t looking at it anymore. Billy’s heart is racing and he’s already poised to run. He always knew this thing between them had an expiration date; he just wishes it had come about some other way. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move. Can’t look away from the shock and confusion on Steve’s face. 

“Spit it out,” Billy finally snaps. “You know you want to.”

“Will flinches like that,” is all Steve says. 

It makes no sense, but Billy has a feeling it doesn’t need to. He has a feeling that somehow Steve has seen what no one else ever saw—no teacher, no girlfriend, no  _ friend _ . He feels exposed, stripped to the core. 

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Steve comes to stand in front of him, cautious, like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. 

“Come back to mine?” Steve asks slowly. 

Billy opens his mouth to reject the offer, to sneer and walk away once and for all, like he should have done months ago, but Steve interrupts him before he can find the words. 

“There’s a storm tonight, and I don’t want to be alone.” 

Billy’s jaw hangs open for a few seconds, and he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s never been offered someone’s vulnerability before. Never been in a position where he wants to accept. 

“Okay,” he says, trying to make the word sound casual. 

Nothing between them has ever been casual. 

Steve sees through him and smiles anyway.

*

He gets intercepted on his way across the hall. The initial shock has given way to curiosity, and he’s suddenly swarmed by girls who seem all too ready to forget how badly he treated them last time he was in town. They flutter their lashes at him, ask where he’s been in voices dipped low and soft. He lifts his gaze above their heads and sees Steve laughing at him. He’s propped back against the wall, arms folded in front of him, no longer pretending to be doing anything except waiting for Billy. 

Their eyes meet, and the amusement there is so achingly familiar it breaks something inside of him. He knows why he came here, now. Guilt and fear had kept him away, kept him from seeking the closure he desperately needed. But he should have known he was always going to find his way back. As long as Steve was here, he was always going to return.

“You got a wife, now, Billy?” one of the girls asks, tilting her head to the side. They all snap to attention, and frankly, it’s fucking hilarious. 

“Nah,” he drawls, shoving his hands in pockets and stepping around them. “Not my type.” 

He leaves them pondering that, confused. They’ll fall on the only explanation that makes sense—Billy was rejecting only that girl. Because the alternative couldn’t possibly be true, right? Billy Hargrove couldn’t possibly disappear for ten years and come back gay. 

His gaze locks with Steve’s again, and he remembers how it felt the first time all the walls had come down between them. The first time they’d told each other the kind of secrets you tell at a slumber party when you’re eight years old and you don’t realize how dangerous secrets really are. When you’re just desperate to share yourself with someone else, to be seen.

He winks at Steve, heat rising in his chest at the blush that immediately flushes Steve’s cheeks. It clashes horribly with his yellow tie, and a terrible ache rises in Billy’s chest as he realizes it’s as if no time has passed at all. All he wants to do is grab Steve by that ridiculous tie and pull him into a bruising kiss. To revel in the moment that always comes right after Billy grabs him, where Steve spins them around, shoves him against the wall, and takes control.  

And maybe he wants something a little more than that too. Maybe he wants what he’s finally accepted he had—what he lost.

*

They spend the summer driving along the West coast, windows rolled down and stereo blasting an incongruous mix of heavy metal and pop rock. The air tastes like salt, and Billy feels home, even though he knows they’ll have to go back to Hawkins eventually. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks suddenly, head tipped back against the headrest and a goofy smile on his face. 

Billy looks over at him, at the sunshine yellow crop top that shows off Steve’s abs and the dark line of hair leading below his shorts. 

“Yellow,” he says, grinning when Steve looks over at him and raises an eyebrow. “What about you, pretty boy?” 

Steve mulls it over. “Can’t choose. Don’t think I’ve ever been very good at making decisions.” 

Billy thinks back to the moment they decided to drive here, the way Steve’s eyes had lit up and how quickly he’d jumped in the car, barely taking the time to lock up the empty house behind him. 

“Maybe you’re just not being offered any good choices,” he says, too full of some unnamed emotion to hide the anger in his voice. 

Steve lifts his sunglasses to look at Billy properly. “Maybe.” 

His voice has gone all soft like it gets when Billy says something nice, even though Billy is pretty sure he’s never nice. Tears for Fears croons in the background.

_ Something happens and I’m head over heels.  _

“Hey, Billy?” 

“Yeah?” 

The air feels charged, like something is about to explode.

“Are you going to freak out if I say it?”

Billy nearly crashes the car. His head whips around toward Steve, and he’s so panicked, he can’t even register the mix of emotions on Steve’s face. Somehow, he manages to pull over and stop the car. 

“Say what?” He thinks he knows, but he has to be sure. 

“You know what.” Steve doesn’t give him the chance to check out, to pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on or that it has nothing to do with him.

“You saying you love me or something, Harrington?” 

God, that’s a bad idea. Loving Billy never ends well, and Steve means too much for him to become another person Billy destroys just by being himself. He wants to ask if Steve’s sure, if he wants to take it back, but he can’t say the words. Can’t give Steve the option. So instead he just looks at him and waits for Steve to answer.

“Yeah, dickhead.” Steve gives him a look like he knows exactly what Billy’s thinking. It’s soft and gentle, and for the first time in forever a small piece of the immeasurable weight on Billy’s shoulders floats away.

Those words mean something after that. Steve knows Billy can’t deal with emotions, knows they sends him running. So he keeps it casual, keeps it light. It makes Billy feel held without being trapped. It means more than anything Billy can remember.

*

His heart is racing so fast, he can feel it in his throat. The only thing separating him from Steve is the long table covered in a gawdy cloth and cheap party food. Steve stares him down but doesn’t move, remains leaning against the wall, arms still folded, waiting. 

Billy still can’t read his expression, but he also knows it doesn’t matter. The only way he’s going to know anything for sure is if he crosses this final line and actually talks to Steve. 

He doesn’t know if Steve forgives him. He doesn’t know if Steve understands why he left—or, more importantly, why he didn’t come back. He doesn’t know if he should have come here tonight, or if he’s just causing them both more pain that can’t be undone. 

But if he doesn’t talk to Steve, he’ll never know. He’s learned about talking to people since he was here last. Steve didn’t teach him that, though Billy knows now that it was the beginning. Billy learned it through the relationships he’s built in the past ten years. Not just lovers, but friends, colleagues, bosses. He’s learned how to heal small hurts and make amends. He’s learned forgiveness, for others and for himself.

He still wonders if he’s learned enough to heal this. 

*

They’re lying on the hood of the Camaro, under the stars, when it occurs to Billy that he’s never said it. He feels like this shouldn’t surprise him, but it hits him like a punch to the gut, because he thinks it so often he feels like it must be written on his skin. He thinks it whenever Steve looks at him across a crowded room, thinks it whenever they’re lying side by side, sweat still gleaming on their skin, thinks it whenever he sees Steve smile down at whatever book he’s reading or when he’s on the phone talking to one of the idiot kids that still follow him around like ducklings.

He thinks it all the time, but he never says it, and now he’s going to leave without ever having told Steve how much he loves him.

He tips his head to the side, sees the tiny smile on Steve’s face as he stares up at the sparkling sky. It kills him that he knows what’s coming and Steve doesn’t. It’s like watching someone standing on traintracks, facing away from the oncoming train.

“You know how I feel, right?” His voice cracks, and he still can’t say it. 

Steve turns to him and grins. “Yeah, dickhead.”

The words kill him, and he can see on Steve’s face the moment he realizes something isn’t right. His smile falls as if in slow motion, and Billy feels smaller than he’s ever felt in his life.

“I have to leave,” he says, before he can chicken out of that, too.

“What?” Steve’s face is pale and wretched in the moonlight. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Steve sits up and turns to face him. “No, no I don’t. Why do you have to leave me?” 

Billy’s heart clenches at the words, the subtle misunderstanding that reminds him he isn’t the only one with scars.

“I’m not leaving  _ you _ ,” he says, voice quiet in the night. He sits up too and reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve pulls away. “I’m leaving Hawkins. I’m leaving  _ him _ .”

Understanding flickers on Steve’s face, but the hurt remains.

“Come with me,” Billy says, even though he knows Steve can’t.

Steve still hasn’t told him all of his secrets, but he’s told him enough for Billy to know he’s not leaving this town in a hurry. Not leaving those kids behind.

“You know I can’t.”

Billy wishes Steve hadn’t taught him how to feel again, because nothing in his life has ever hurt as much as this. “You know I have to go.”

Steve knows. Has probably always known, just like Billy has. This thing between them has always had an expiration date; Billy just wishes it had come sooner, so it didn’t hurt like this. Wishes it didn’t have to come at all.

“I have a choice,” he says quietly. “It’s the only choice I’ll ever get, and I’ve got to take it. For me. I’ve got to know what I can be without him.”

There’s a shadow across Steve’s face, and it takes a while for Billy to realize he’s nodding. Something shimmers on his face, and Billy suddenly knows he can’t stay long enough to find out if they’re tears. He can’t afford what will happen if he loses hold of the sadness in him right now. This isn’t a fight; it’s worse than any fight they’ve ever had. The stars are disappearing above them, hidden by oncoming cloud that Billy swore was further away than this. Thunder rumbles.

“I’ll come back,” Billy promises as Steve slips off the hood and backs away in a daze.

“Really?

Billy pauses. “I’ll try.”

It’s all he can give, and he knows it’s no where near enough.

*

Billy doesn’t regret leaving. He owes Steve more, far more, than he ever could have given him at eighteen, when he still hated the world and everything in it. Love can only take you so far; eventually you have to heal yourself, and Billy has always known he had to heal alone.

He comes to a halt in front of Steve, hands shaking in his pockets. He knows his eyes are shining with unshed tears, and he doesn’t even care. Too much has happened for him to lose this moment, this one chance. It’s a choice he never thought he’d have again, a life he thought he’d lost forever. He was always too scared to come back, to find out for sure if he’d changed enough or if he was still doomed to destroy the things he loves. 

Lightning flashes outside and rain crashes against the glass. The air is electric.

Standing in front of Steve now, he begins to hope for the first time that the right things have changed and the right things stayed the same. He begins to hope that the expression he sees in Steve’s eyes really is a mirror of how Billy feels, that Steve still feels the same about him. He begins to hope that they can pick up where they left off as two whole people instead of two broken boys searching for themselves in someone else. 

Steve pushes away from the wall, and for a second it’s just like it was back then. And Billy hopes.

“Remember me?” Billy breathes.

Steve smiles, slow and soft and achingly familiar. “Yeah, dickhead. I remember you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The price we pay (the promise we made)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025541) by [socknonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny)




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